


cas ex machina

by ceruleancats



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On, First Kiss, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Reunions, Supernatural 15x20 Fix-It, Supernatural Finale Fix-It, cas saves the day bc he's a #girlboss, the night we met was a fucking deancas song and this is what the barn scene should have been!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28742544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceruleancats/pseuds/ceruleancats
Summary: Dean's dying. Again. In the stupidest way possible. But Cas is alive, and there's no way he's going to let that happen.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 121





	cas ex machina

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I wrote another spn fix-it fic. I'm not sure if it's even cool and relevant to be writing these anymore, but it's been rattling around in my brain for a while, so here you go, take it! 
> 
> Please enjoy and leave a kudos or comment if you're feeling it :)

Dean is dying.

It’s something you sort of get a feel for, after the first couple of times. The hitch in your breathing. The blackness creeping at the corners of your vision. The insistent tug at the edges of your consciousness. 

And this fucking sucks, actually, because he doesn’t really _want_ to die. Not now. Not when, for the first time, Chuck is powerless and all the puppet strings the douchebag had them dancing on are cut and Dean is finally, genuinely _free_.

But goddammit he is so _tired_ of fighting. It was supposed to be an easy hunt. Something to distract himself from—the thing he’s not thinking about, _refuses_ to worry about right now in his literal last moments. 

No, he’s got to buck the fuck up, because he’s bleeding out and Sam is kneeling in front of him and crying and he has to reassure his little brother if it’s the last thing he does, right?

So he tells Sam all the bullshit, the “go live your life” and “no resurrections” and “I’m proud of you.” (Well, to be fair, the last one is generally true.) This shit is old hat by now, which is kind of hilarious if you really think about it. That they’ve both died so many times they have a whole set routine. Dean might actually laugh if he didn’t have fucking rebar all up in his lung. 

He’s gearing up to say some shit about “always keep fighting” or something, because the black gnawing at the edges of his vision hasn’t taken over just yet and he’s gotta use the time to say something meaningful to Sam, who’s crying in earnest now and making Dean cry too, and goddammit this is fucking _sad_ and _pathetic_ and—

The roof of the barn is rattling. 

Dean breaks off in the middle of his sentence and lifts his head upwards as best he can with the whole rebar-in-lung sitch, but there’s nothing obvious that’s causing it other than a strong wind, which is obviously all it is. Just because that’s what happened the first time he met C—

“Dean?” Sam says brokenly, putting his giant mitts around Dean’s face like that’ll somehow anchor his soul to his body. 

“Just the wind,” Dean gets out, patting Sam’s arm weakly. 

But it must be some sort of freak tornado thing, because now the great big doors of the barn are creaking and moaning and banging open and closed, and all the metal equipment on the walls is clattering, and bits of hay are swirling wildly in the air. 

Sam’s gaze sharpens through his tears, and he gives Dean a wide-eyed, meaningful look that Dean can’t (won’t) interpret. 

And then the doors burst open one last time with a noise like a gunshot, and there’s Cas. 

There’s Cas, trench coat and tie and everything, and his eyes find Dean immediately, and he says, urgent and scared, “ _Dean!_ ”

“Cas?” Dean says. He’s almost afraid he’s hallucinating (when your brain is shutting down, reality tends to get somewhat hazy), but Sam can definitely see Cas too, and jumps back to give Cas space when he rushes over to Dean. 

“Dean,” Cas says again, softer, and hovers over Dean uncertainly for a second. “I’m going to heal you, but I’ll have to remove you from the rebar first. I’m sorry, this will be painful.”

“Cas,” Dean says again, dumbly. His brain’s a bit scrambled at the moment from the dying, so he’s gonna blame it on that. 

“Yes, I’m here. I’ll explain later,” Cas tells him, and then grabs Dean’s waist and gently, gently lifts him up and off the rebar, which hurts like a motherfucker. 

Dean tries not to groan in pain and ends up making an embarrassing little whimper instead. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas says again, and sets Dean’s feet back on the ground. Sam rushes over to help hold Dean up, says “I got you,” and then Dean doesn’t feel Cas’s hand, but the familiar warm, rushing sensation of angel healing floods over his back and through his chest. The blinding pain fades and the darkness retreats from Dean’s vision in seconds, and suddenly he can breathe again.

Sam stops holding him up and starts hugging him almost immediately, and Dean squeezes him back just as hard. “Thank God,” Sam says into his shoulder, a sentiment Dean definitely shares, because it must have been Jack who brought Cas back, right? 

When Sam pulls away, after patting him on the shoulder vigorously, Dean turns to face Cas, who is standing back several feet and looking down at the ground like he doesn’t want to intrude or something. 

“Hey, um, thanks. Perfect timing, huh?” Dean says lamely. Fuck, the dude just saved his life and Dean can’t come up with anything better than “um, thanks” and a weak joke? 

“Yes, I’m glad I was able to make it in time,” Cas says gravely, looking up to meet Dean’s eyes. 

“Me too,” Dean says, trying for levity. It falls flat. “Uh, how did you find us?”

“Jack resurrected me from the Empty shortly after he left you. He restored me to full power and healed my wings, which is how I got here. Jack and I were working together to remake Heaven, and then he told me you were in trouble, so I came down immediately.”

“I thought Jack was going hands-off with everything,” Dean objects.

“He made an exception. For both of us,” Cas says, and his tone softens a little.

And that makes Dean notice that it’s kind of weird, actually, the way Cas has been talking. All stiff and formal. And come to think of it, Cas let go of Dean before he healed him. Touched Dean as little as possible and then backed away. 

...This is about that confession, isn’t it. 

Fuck. The Confession, as Dean’s been mentally calling it, which he’s been pushing down and bottling up the patented Dean Winchester way since it happened, because thinking about that means thinking about how Cas fucking _died_ again, and not only died, but died right after confessing that he loved Dean. That he was In Love with Dean. And thinking about how Cas died after saying he was In Love with Dean but before Dean could tell Cas anything back—well, of course that kind of shit would have to be under permanent mental lockdown. 

But Cas is alive.

Cas is alive and standing right in front of Dean, looking at him a bit strangely now, with his head cocked to the side in that stupidly endearing birdlike pose, since Dean’s been thinking furiously and saying nothing for the past several seconds and has probably undergone a thrilling face journey in the process. 

“Um, Cas,” Dean says finally. 

“I should get back to helping Jack with Heaven,” Cas cuts in rapidly. 

Right. This is what always happens. Cas is here, and then he’s gone. Probably will be for a while this time, since who fucking knows how long it takes to “remake Heaven,” whatever that means. 

But god fucking damn it, Dean’s not letting it happen this time. 

“No, Cas. Stay here for a minute. I got something to say.”

From behind Dean, Sam suddenly pipes up. “I’m going to, um. Check on those kids! Be right back.” 

He hurries out of the barn like he’s got a hellhound on his ass, closing the doors firmly behind him. Clearly he’s sensed what’s happening, which is unfair. Save some of the emotional intelligence for the rest of us, Sam, honestly. But yeah, this’ll probably be way less weird with him hovering awkwardly in the background, so Dean’s more thankful than annoyed. 

Cas’s eyes follow Sam out of the barn, his head tilted again in confusion. Then he turns back to Dean. “What is it, Dean?”

“Cas, what you said when—in the dungeon… Did you really mean it?” 

Because he has to be sure first. It’s entirely possible, probable even, that Dean’s misinterpreting the whole thing. Cas is an angel, after all, an entirely different species. He doesn’t feel or think the same way humans do, even if he’s seemed to become so much more human in the years Dean’s known him. Or maybe The Confession was just a heat of the moment thing, and Cas totally regrets what he said and that’s why he’s acting so weird. 

“...Yes, Dean. I meant every word,” Cas says, in a tone that almost sounds like he’s daring Dean to challenge that. 

Okay, so he meant every word. That’s a good sign. 

But again, what if “love” means something different to angels? Can they even be romantically attached? Dean’s overthinking this, he knows it, but he’s finding it somewhat terrifying that an _angel_ could love him. Be In Love with him. 

And now he’s fucked himself over because he’s been quiet for _way_ too long, and Cas says, “I know you don’t feel the same way, and it’s okay, Dean. I’m happy. At peace, even. You don’t have to say anything. I know you think of me as your brother, and I hope that hasn’t changed because of what I said.”

_Holy shit, I taught an angel homophobia,_ Dean thinks nonsensically, and then shakes his head and opens his mouth and blurts out, “I don’t think of you as a brother.” 

Real fucking strong opener there, Winchester. 

“I mean, I—uh.” And now he’s stuttering like an idiot. 

“Oh,” Cas says while Dean is still struggling to get the fucking words on the express train from his brain to his tongue. He sounds so resigned it almost breaks Dean’s heart. “I see. I made things awkward.” 

“Dammit, Cas, what I’m trying to say is—I love you, too. Romantically. So, not as a brother.”

Silence. 

And then: “Oh,” Cas says again, much more surprised than heartbreakingly sad this time. 

“Yeah. And you went and fucking died on me before I could say anything back.”

Cas’s brow wrinkles. “You just almost died from impaling yourself on a piece of rebar, fighting...vampire mimes,” he shoots back grumpily, after a quick glance at the barn’s carnage. Which, fair. Bit of a glass houses situation here. 

“Well, lucky for us, we’re both alive again. Still. Whatever.” 

Dean takes a step towards Cas, halving the distance between them. Cas just stares at him, face half shaded by the darkness of the barn. Dean needs to do this now before he chickens the fuck out, because he _can’t_ pull the “deal with that confession of love absolutely never and pretend everything is exactly the same,” not this time. 

“Uh,” he says intelligently. “Can I kiss you?”

“I was actually about to ask you that,” Cas says, his lips turning up in one of his rare genuine smiles, and Dean takes another step forward to plant his own lips directly on that beautiful smile. 

It’s a relatively chaste kiss, all things considered (all things being the immense drama of Cas confessing his love and then dying and reappearing just in time to save Dean’s life). It’s still pretty great. 

Somehow they shift from kissing to hugging, and Dean buries his face in that stupid, amazing trench coat for just a second, breathing in the distinctive Cas smell it always carries, the mix of pine forests and ozone and other nature-adjacent things Dean doesn’t have words for. 

“I thought I’d lost you forever, you son of a bitch,” he whispers into Cas’s shoulder, and he’s being stupidly sappy right now, but what the fuck ever, he’s earned it at this point.

“Well, you haven’t, Dean. I’m right here,” Cas says gently, and reaches a hand up to stroke the back of Dean’s head. 

God, this is disgustingly chick flick-y. Dean loves it. 

Eventually, they pull away and sort of just stare at each other dazedly. Just looking at Cas is kind of intoxicating. He’s here. He’s alive. And they’re In Love with each other. Low bar, Dean knows, but for him and his track record, it’s fucking amazing. 

Of course, this is when Sam decides to make his re-entrance. 

“I’m coming back in,” he announces loudly as he opens the doors, and when Dean turns to look, the bastard’s actually got his hands over his eyes like he’s afraid he’s walking into something X-rated. 

“Always such a prude, Sammy,” Dean says, because he enjoys being an asshole. 

Sam puts his hands down and takes in how close Dean and Cas are standing. “You guys figure things out? Fucking _finally_.” 

Dean gapes at him.

“Oh my god, did you guys seriously think I didn’t notice? It’s been, like, a decade of this. I do have eyes, Dean.” Sam rolls said eyes exaggeratedly at Dean, because he also enjoys being an asshole. 

“You—uh. Shut the hell up, Sam,” Dean growls, trying not to blush like a teenage girl. Jesus fuck, was this really common knowledge?

Sam smirks and turns toward Cas. “Congrats. I’m glad my brother finally managed to get his head out of his ass and tell you how he feels. Also, great to have you back.”

“...Thank you, Sam,” Cas says seriously.

“Oh, don’t thank him when he’s being a little bitch, it just encourages him,” Dean snaps, but he’s too damn _happy_ for it to have any kind of bite. And isn’t that the damndest thing? 

“I had to deal with you two and your unresolved sexual tension for literally ten years. I think I’m entitled to at least ten _minutes_ of bitchy comments,” Sam says, fully smiling now, and Dean can’t help but smile back. 

“I’m sorry to ‘ruin the moment,’” Cas says after a second, the air quotes evident in his voice. All these years and he still hasn’t quite gotten the hang of some human expressions. It’s really fucking endearing, actually, if Dean’s being honest. “But I really do have to get back to helping Jack with Heaven. I wasn’t lying about that.”

“Oh,” Dean says, unable to keep some of the immediate disappointment he feels from bleeding into his tone. He’d thought that maybe—well, that they’d have more time together, you know?

“Not forever,” Cas reassures him quickly, clearly clocking Dean’s dismay. “I’ll be able to visit, of course. And it shouldn’t take forever. We’re just remaking Heaven to be less of a...prison, and more open and free like Earth.”

“Oh,” Dean says again, lamely. “Yeah, you’d better visit. We’ve got a long overdue beach day to plan.” He winks at Cas kinda cheekily, and Cas smiles back. 

Then, something occurs to Dean. “Okay, wait, you make the whole ‘remaking a wholeass realm’ thing sound so easy. Wasn’t there that deal about Heaven running low on batteries that you told me about a couple years ago?”

“Yeah, Jack was able to resolve that too with his new powers.” Cas smiles again in a distinctly proud papa way, and Dean feels his lips twitch up involuntarily in return (which, sidenote, holy shit, has he ever smiled this much in his life?). Cas really did pretty much raise the new capital-G God, which is very weird when you think about it. Dean’s like, God’s step-father now, basically? God’s dad’s boyfriend? ...Probably best not to think about it. 

“Like I said,” Cas continues, “Jack gave all existing angels our wings back, and he’s been creating new ones to help with Heaven’s lack of power.” 

Dean nods in acknowledgement, and then his brain and lips must decide to spontaneously malfunction, because he blurts out, “Can I see them?”

“Your wings, I mean,” he clarifies. God—uh, Jack—what is he doing? “Uh. If you’re...comfortable with that?”

Cas tilts his head at Dean again, face unreadable. But, “Of course, Dean,” he says. 

Then, as Cas lifts his head and seems to concentrate, a blinding flash of lightning blazes through the barn, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. 

And, up close and personal this time, since Dean’s standing just a few feet away, the massive shadows of Cas’s wings unfold and stretch across the wall of the barn.

Inevitably, watching Cas in his signature outfit with light streaming from him and feathery shadows sweeping across wooden walls, Dean thinks of a very similar sight in a very similar barn so many years ago.

_This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith._

_Good things do happen, Dean._

This time, he thinks he might just be able to believe it.


End file.
